


To The Ends Of The Earth

by afteriwake



Series: Now And For All Time [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 02:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There once was a bewitched princess who fancied Sherlock. She should have known his curiosity would get the best of him. But once he decides he wants something, he’ll go to the ends of the earth to get it back, especially if he has some help along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To The Ends Of The Earth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Written for the Holmestice 2013 exchange for **wiggleofjudas**. Many thanks to my beta **ami_ven** , especially since she’s the only one of my friends who had actually read the fairytale before when I asked for help. My recipient asked for a fairytale rewrite that had Sherlock/Molly as a ship, and one of my absolute fairytales ever is a Norwegian tale called “[East of the Sun and West of the Moon](http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/norway034.html)” (link takes you to the original fairytale). I decided to gender flip that one for a rewrite. I tried to hold true to the version I have enjoyed since I was a child, but one of the gifts is different and Sherlock’s got more of an attitude than the heroine in the original story.

There was once a woman with two sons. She loved them both, but she prized her oldest son the most. He was involved in running the village, and he brought her much pride. Her youngest son was very intelligent, it was true, but he was callous and cold. Her eldest son was not as handsome as her youngest, and while women showed the oldest one respect, as befitted his status, they showered the youngest with praise until he spoke and hurt their feelings. Her youngest may have been handsome, but his mother despaired that he would ever marry and leave her home as her oldest had. 

One day a snow white fawn came to her door. At first she was cautious, for animals did not come close to their home, but then the fawn spoke. “Good evening,” the fawn said in a feminine voice.

The woman was surprised, but she recovered quickly. “The same to you,” she said with a nod.

“I have come to ask for your son,” the fawn said.

“My eldest is not here,” she said, surprised.

“Not your eldest. Your youngest. He intrigues me. I will make you the richest woman in the village if you will give him to me. He will be well taken care of.”

The woman was even more surprised now. Who would want her youngest son? He was no treasure. And the money would do her well. Still, she felt the need to ask him first. She went inside and spoke to him. “Sherlock, will you go with the fawn who wants you?”

“No,” he said, not looking up from his reading.

“She offers me riches, and you will be well taken care of.”

“No,” he replied. Then he paused. “The fawn talked?”

His mother nodded. “Yes. She speaks very well.”

He thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “Even a talking fawn is not worth my time. Send it away.”

The woman was angry, but she knew what she had to do. She went back outside to the fawn. “Give me a week, please. I will convince him.”

“Let him know he will have all the books he wants, all the equipment he needs for his experiments, and he will be alone most of the time, which I know will appeal to him.”

“Very well.” The woman went back inside, scolding her youngest. She continued to harp at him until the week was done, giving him no peace. Finally, he agreed, simply to get away from her and get some peace and quiet. He gathered the few belongings he wished to take and waited for the fawn to return.

Exactly one week later, to the hour, the fawn appeared. “He has agreed,” the woman said.

“Excellent,” the fawn replied. “Climb on my back and we will be off.”

Sherlock was surprised to hear the fawn speak, but he did as he was told. “Can you bear me?” he asked.

“I am stronger than I look,” she replied, and then they were off. They traveled for a time before the fawn spoke again. “Are you afraid?”

“More curious than anything else,” he replied. “How much longer?”

“It is a ways away,” she said. “Hold onto me tightly and we will travel faster.” He held onto her tightly and they continued. Soon they came to a large cliff, and the fawn made its way up the cliff to a magnificent castle on top. The fawn stopped outside the door. “You only need to knock on the door. Pick up the bell on the table to the left when you enter and you will be able to get anything you need.”

“Where are you going? I want to study you,” he asked.

The fawn laughed. “Enjoy your time here.” And with that, the fawn left. 

Sherlock went and knocked on the door, and it opened. He remembered to pick up the bell from the table and put it in his pocket, deciding to explore. The rooms were well appointed, and he was surprised to find two libraries, filled floor to ceiling with books, as well as a room with all the equipment he could imagine to perform any experiment he could dream of, and some he had thought might be impossible. There was also a grand dining hall filled with food that smelled delectable, and he sat down to eat before continuing his explorations.

He finished exploring and was drowsy with sleep and good food, and so he took a candle and went to one of the rooms. There was a magnificent bed and a wardrobe filled with high quality clothing, all in his size. He assumed this was to be his room. Laid out on the bed were garments for sleeping, and he changed into them. Then pulling back the covers, he slipped into bed and blew out the candle. A few moments after the candle was out he felt someone else slip into bed. “Who is there?” he asked warily.

“It is me,” the fawn said. 

“This is curious,” he murmured. “You are not really an animal?”

“No. I am human, but I can only be human at night, and only when I know no human eyes will see me. My name is Molly.”

“So why did you want me?” he asked, sitting up in bed.

“As I told your mother, you intrigue me. You fascinate me. And I believe I can offer you a better life than what you would have had in the village.”

He thought for a moment. “What do you want out of the arrangement?”

“Nothing more than your company at night. Nothing has to happen. I can stay up and talk, or we can sleep. But just know in the morning I will be gone, before the first rays of dawn break on the horizon.”

He settled into the bed. “Then let’s talk.” 

He resolved to stay awake until the sun came up so he could see this woman, but as the hours passed he began to get sleepy, and soon he was out like a light. When he awoke the next morning the woman was gone. He went to one of the libraries and began to read through the books, trying to find answers as to who the woman was, but finding none. Soon he was tired and hungry, so he went back to the dining room and ate and drank to his fill, then went back to his room. He changed into his nightclothes and got into bed. After a moment’s hesitation, he put out the light. Soon afterwards, the woman came back to his bed. 

“There is no possible way I am going to get to see you, is there?” he asked.

“No. If you look at me I must leave, and all of this will be gone.” She reached over and touched his face lightly. She had soft hands. He reached up and grabbed it, realizing her hand was small. “Why do you want to see me so badly?”

“Curiosity,” he said. “If I cannot see you, may I touch you?”

“I suppose,” she said. He let go of her hand and he reached over in her general direction, feeling her. He touched her hair, running his fingers through the silky strands. Then he felt her face, realizing the skin was just as soft as her hands had been. He moved to her shoulders, running his fingers along the bare skin of her arms. He stopped himself before he felt her chest, unsure of where he should put his hands. “Do you want to feel my heart beat?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” he said with a slight nod he was almost positive she could see. She grasped his hand and placed his palm above her heart. He kept it there for a moment, and then slowly drew his hand down, tracing the soft curve of her breast before moving lower. “You are very real,” he said quietly. “And very much a woman.”

“You had doubt?” she asked, her voice warm.

“Some.” He removed his hand but she grasped it and held it tightly. “You did not get a good bargain when you asked for me. My curiosity will only gnaw at me.”

“I hope I can convince you otherwise,” she said.

“How will you convince me?”

“I will give you anything you could ever want.”

“That is a lot to give.”

“I believe you are worth it.” She brought his palm to her lips and kissed it. The act of intimacy surprised him, and he shut his eyes and savored it. “Now then. Let us talk until you fall asleep.”

They began to talk, and while it was still dark he felt his eyes begin to flutter closed. Soon he was asleep. Once again when he awoke he was alone. He repeated his actions of the day before, trying to find out more about the mysterious woman who visited him at night, and then ate his fill at dinner. When he went back to his bed and put out the light she returned. It went on this way for some time, them staying in bed and talking until he fell asleep. He began to feel things towards her, emotions he had not allowed himself to feel before. If he had not known better he would have sworn he was falling in love with her. But deep down, he wanted to know how she appeared; after all, how could one love someone if one didn’t know what the person they were in love looked like?

He soon stopped going to the library every day, instead spending his time in the room for his experiments. He went to work building a way he could conceal a light until she was asleep, so he could see what she looked like. It took some time, but after a week he was fairly sure he had the contraption made. He took this new candle to bed that night, and instead of blowing out the light he closed the compartment. Soon she arrived and slipped into bed next to him. 

“What do you want to talk about tonight?” she asked.

“I do not want to talk,” he said, reaching over to touch her face.

“Then what do you want to do?” she asked, a bit breathlessly.

“I want to hold you close as you sleep.”

“Very well. I will go to sleep now. Lie down on your side.” He did, and she spooned against him. In the entire time this had been going on, months now at his calculations, he had not held her as they slept. It was strange and yet very comfortable, and he almost didn’t want to do what she had warned him from doing. But curiosity won out. He waited until her breathing evened out and then he slowly let go of her, pulling himself away. He went to the light and opened the compartment. Light spilled out into the room, and he held the candle over her. There, in his bed, was a woman. She wore a white dress with no sleeves, similar to a slip. He looked at her, content to know that the woman really was a woman, and was actually quite pretty at that.

He wasn’t paying attention, though, and three drops of tallow from his candle fell on her dress. “Damn,” he murmured as she woke up, slowly at first but then with a quickness that almost caused him to drop the candle.

“I told you not to!” she said, her eyes wide.

“I told you I was curious!” he snapped back. “Why wasn’t I allowed to look? You aren’t hideous. You’re quite pretty, actually.”

“I should have known better,” she said, getting out of the bed quickly. The castle had begun to shake, and he got out of bed as well. “I was under a spell. I could stay here with you as long as you didn’t look at me. Now I have to go.” A tear slipped down her cheek as the shaking intensified. 

“I am sorry, Molly,” he said, coming closer to her. “What can I do to stop it?”

“There is nothing you can do,” she replied as another tear slipped down her cheek. Suddenly she became surrounded by light. “I have to go.”

This had not gone how he had planned. He hadn’t wanted to lose her. “Then tell me where I can find you, at least,” he replied, his voice almost pleading.

“I will be in a castle, east of the sun and west of the moon. But there is no path to find me.”

“I promise, I will find you.” As he reached out to grab her wrist his hands touched nothing but air. The shaking intensified, and then it stopped and the castle that he was in was gone in a blink, and he found himself standing on cliff where it had stood, with only the clothes on his back, the candle in his hand and the belongings he had brought with him strewn upon the ground.

“Damn!” he shouted, angrier at himself than he had ever been before. He had opened his heart to feel emotions and then his own stupid curiosity had cost him everything. But he had promised her he would find her, and if nothing else he was stubborn as a mule. He was going to find her and set things right if it killed him. And so, he began to walk.

He walked for three days, eating what he could and drinking from streams. Finally he got to a house on a cliff and saw a man who was tossing up a golden apple and catching it. He watched in fascination for a moment before approaching the man. “Excuse me.”

The man grinned at him. The closer Sherlock got the more the man resembled the local constable in his village, a man named Lestrade. “Yes?” he asked, pulling out another apple, a red one this time, and taking a bite of it. “Can I help you?” he asked as soon as he was done swallowing.

“Do you know where the castle is, the one that is east of the sun and west of the moon?”

“’Fraid not, mate,” he said. “Say, aren’t you the man who should have had her?”

“Had who?” Sherlock asked.

“The bewitched princess. You’re the smart man she took to the castle. Bet you were just a bit too smart for your own good, weren’t you?” Sherlock glared, and the man’s smile faltered. “Look, I can’t tell you where it is. But I can give you this golden apple, if you think it might help. Last I heard, she’s in a castle with a prince who has a nose three yards long. Reckon he’s going to make her marry him.”

“Not if I can help it,” Sherlock said darkly.

“You know, if you keep walking, you’re never going to stop him. Use my horse. Maybe my neighbor can help you,” the man said, tossing the apple to Sherlock. Sherlock caught it and put it in the bag he’d brought with him to the castle. Then the man left and went to his stable. About twenty minutes later he came back out, leading a horse. Sherlock vaulted into the saddle and the man handed him the reins. “Good luck finding her. I think you’ll need it.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock said with a nod, and then the horse was off. 

The horse rode quickly, and while he knew it was longer it felt like he arrived at the next closest home a few short hours later. There was a woman there with a golden carding comb, and he could have sworn it was the innkeeper in his village, the one everyone called Mrs. Hudson. She smiled at him. “You look like you need help.”

Sherlock got off the horse, which looked lathered. “I’m looking for the castle that’s east of the sun and west of the moon, where there’s a prince with a nose three yards long.”

“You’re the one who would have had her. Oh, the poor girl, to be trapped like that. I’m afraid I can’t help you though, dear. I don’t know the way,” she said, and Sherlock’s heart fell. “The prince’s stepmother is a nasty piece of work. It’s almost impossible to find the place. But here.” She handed the carding comb over to Sherlock. “Take this. It might help. And I’ll give you my horse to get to my neighbor. If anyone might know, it’s him.”

Sherlock put the comb in his bag, and when the woman returned with a horse soon after, he got up in the saddle. “Thank you.”

“Just get her back. No one deserves that ogre for a husband.” The woman grinned at him and handed Sherlock the reins, then slapped the horse’s rump and Sherlock was off.

He traveled farther this time, though once again it seemed as though only a few hours had passed. Soon his horse slowed, and he saw a man. He was fighting a practice dummy with a golden sword, and Sherlock realized she looked like his old friend in the village, the doctor who was named John.

“John?” he asked quietly.

“No, I don’t go by that name,” he said, slightly confused. “I see you have my friend’s horse. How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for the castle that lies east of the sun and west of the moon, where a prince with a nose three yards long and his evil stepmother reside.”

“Oh! You’re the one who should have had her!” the man said, surprised. “Can’t help you find it, I’m afraid.”

“Damn,” Sherlock said with a sigh, hanging his head.

“I didn’t say I didn’t know someone who might, though,” he said with a chuckle. Sherlock’s head snapped up faster than he would have expected. “The East Wind might know.”

“How do I find him?”

“You just keep going this way,” he said, pointing. “But not on that horse. He’s almost half dead. I’ll loan you my own horse. Just send him back when you get there.” Then he paused. “And take this sword. Never know when you might need a sword.”

“Thank you,” he said. Sherlock got off the horse and the man handed him the sword and a scabbard for it. He put the sword on and then looked up to see the man had left.

Soon after the man came back, leading a horse. “Now then,” he said as Sherlock got on the horse. “You don’t have much time. If you want to get her back you’ll have to hurry. Find her, if you can.” And with that, Sherlock was off.

This time the ride took longer, nearly a full day, but he arrived to the home of the East Wind. He got off the horse and went to the house. “Is anybody home?” he called out.

“Yes,” a deep voice replied. “I am the East Wind. How may I help you?”

“I am looking for the castle which lies east of the sun and west of the moon, where there’s a prince with a nose three yards long and his stepmother. Do you know where it is?” Sherlock asked.

“No, I do not, though I have heard of it,” the voice replied.

“Do you know who might?”

“My brother, the West Wind. He is stronger than I.” A very large man came out of the home. “You are the man who should have had her.”

“Yes, I am, and I know just how badly I screwed up,” Sherlock said sourly.

“You’re going after her. That proves she didn’t choose poorly.” He nodded to the horse. “Send her back to her master and come with me. I will take you to my brother.”

“Very well.” Sherlock sent the horse back the way they had come and then went to the man. “How are we going to get there?”

“Climb on my back.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow slightly, but did as he was told, and then they were off. It was a long journey, but soon they came to another home. “My brother is inside. I hope you find the princess.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock said as the man nodded to him and left. Sherlock turned to the house. “West Wind! Do you know where the castle that is east of the sun and west of the moon lies? The one with the prince with a nose three yards long and his wicked stepmother?”

“I have heard of the place, but I have never been there,” a voice said from the house.

“I’m starting to think no one has,” Sherlock said.

“My brother the South Wind might know where it is, though. He is far stronger than I.” A large man came out, larger than the one who had brought him there. “You are the one who should have had her.”

“Yes, I know,” Sherlock said, trying not to get exasperated. “Can you take me to your brother?”

“Yes, of course. The princess doesn’t deserve to be left to that fate. Climb upon my back, and I will take you.” Sherlock did as he was told and then they were off. It was a longer journey than the previous one had been, but soon they approached another house. “My brother is inside. I hope he can help you.” 

“Thank you,” Sherlock said. The man gave him a brief nod and was off. Then Sherlock turned to the home. “South Wind! I am looking for the castle that is east of the sun and west of the moon, the one where there’s a prince with a nose three yards long and his stepmother, who apparently no one likes. _Please_ tell me you know where it is?”

“I do not,” a voice said from the home. “But my brother the North Wind might. He is the strongest of all of us.” And with that a man came out of the house, one larger than either of his brothers. “You are—”

“I know, I know. I am the one who should have had her. You’re the sixth person to tell me that.”

The South Wind raised an eyebrow. “Why would she want an impertinent man like you?” he asked.

“I’m just very tired of having my idiotic mistake thrown back in my face,” he said, slightly contritely. “She said I intrigued her, if that helps.”

“She is a very curious woman,” he said with a nod.

“And I am a very curious man, and it cost me _her_ ,” Sherlock said quietly. “I want to find her again.”

“That is very noble of you. Very well, I will take you to my brother. But do not be impertinent with him, for he is the most powerful of us all. If you want his help, treat him with respect.”

“I am sorry I did not do that with you,” he said.

“Apology accepted. Climb upon my back and I will take you to him.” Sherlock got on his back and they were off. They traveled for a very long time, and the farther they went the colder it got. By the time they got to a majestic home Sherlock though he might freeze to death before he found Molly. The man let him get off his back. “Remember what I said. Be respectful.”

“I will.” The south wind left, and he looked at the house. “North Wind? I need your help. I need to find the castle that is east of the sun and west of the moon. There is a prince there with a nose three yards long, his abominable stepmother and a princess who I should have had but lost because of my own stupidity. Do you know where it is?”

“I do,” a deep voice said from inside the home. “I blew a leaf there once, but when I was done I was bone tired and could not huff or puff for days. I can take you there, but only if you truly want to.”

“Oh thank God,” he murmured as a man far larger than all his brothers came out of the home. “Yes, I want to go there. It’s my fault she’s there, and I’m going to rescue her.”

“That is a very good thing to do. It will take a full day to get there, for we must go to the end of the world,” the North Wind said. “Come stay in my home, and we will start early in the morning.”

“Is it warm in there?” Sherlock asked, running his hands along his arms.

The North Wind chuckled. “It is. Come inside.” Sherlock went into the home, and the north wind fed him and allowed him to sleep. 

The next morning, before the sun came out, they went outside. “Climb upon my back and hold on tight.” Sherlock did as he was told and then they were off. The North Wind traveled for hours and hours, so long that it all seemed to blur together for Sherlock. He did not want to know what this trip was doing to the world below him, but he gathered it probably wasn’t very pretty. They were almost to the shore when the North Wind spoke again. “I have enough strength to toss you to the shore. Be ready.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock said, and no sooner had he spoke that the North Wind tossed him to the shore, right next to a magnificent castle. Sherlock looked around and saw the North Wind crash into the water, and didn’t move until the large man pulled himself onto the beach. Then he looked up at the castle. He hoped this was the right place. But it was night now, and there was nothing he could do at the moment, so he laid down and went to sleep.

The next morning he awoke, and at a loss for what to do began to rummage through his bag. He pulled out the golden apple he had been given and began to toss it up and then catch it. He was so busy trying to figure out what to do that he didn’t realize the window had opened. It wasn’t until someone cleared his throat that he looked up. There was the prince with the nose three yards long. “What do you want for that apple?” the man asked in a nasal voice.

Sherlock blinked. “It’s not for sale, at least not for riches or wealth,” he said.

“Well, what will you take for it?”

He thought for a moment. If he could just see Molly, talk to her, he could figure out a way to get both of them out of there. Then it occurred to him what he should do. “I heard there is a princess here. I’ll give you the apple for the chance to spend the night with her.”

“Done,” the prince said. Sherlock tossed the apple up to him and the man caught it easily. “Wait here until nightfall. Then you can see her.”

Sherlock waited as patiently as he could, and as night fell a servant came and led him up to a bedroom. He got there, but Molly was already asleep. No matter what he did she would not wake up. He tried for hours, but soon gave up and fell asleep beside her, holding her close. Before the dawn broke, however, he was ushered out of the room by the prince with the long nose. Now he was more determined than ever to get her out of there.

He waited under the castle window for the entire morning, and then pulled out the carding comb the minute he heard the window open. “What do you want for that comb?” the prince asked.

“Another night with the princess,” he said.

The prince chuckled, a sound that grated upon Sherlock’s ears. “Done. Wait here until nightfall.”

Sherlock nodded and tossed the comb up to the ugly prince. When night fell he was escorted to the same room he had been to the night before, and once again his plans had been thwarted. She was sound asleep and nothing he said would rouse her. He spoke to her that night, telling her how sorry he was, how he needed her to wake up. It was the most sincere he had been with anyone, but it did no good. She did not wake up. Finally he was spent and he slept next to her again, keeping her close. And once again, just before dawn, he was driven out of the castle.

He waited around. Once he could be fooled, twice it was on him, but three times? There would be no third time. He would not get fooled again. He waited nearby the window, a bit farther away this time. He began to brandish the sword, making sure the sun hit it just so so it shone brightly to whoever was looking out the window. And sure enough, the window opened and the prince stuck his head out. “What do you want for the sword?”

“Another night with the princess,” he said.

“Give it to me and that will be yours.”

“No. You need to come out here and get it.”

“Just hand it up to me,” the prince said.

“No. You must not want it badly enough if you won’t come get it.” Sherlock slipped the sword back in its sheath. “Such a shame, too. It’s a very nice sword.”

The prince debated it for a moment. “Fine. I’ll come and get it.” Then he moved away from the window and about ten minutes later came strolling out to the beach. “Let me have the sword.”

Sherlock held the sword to him, handle first. The prince got close, and when he was close enough to grab it Sherlock pulled it away. Then he slammed his fist into the side of the prince’s face. The prince was stunned, and Sherlock pulled the sword out of it sheath and went behind the prince, holding it against his throat. “I do not take kindly to being fooled,” Sherlock said menacingly.

“Let me live and you can have whatever you want!” the prince said pleadingly.

“I want the princess. I want her awake when I see her, too. You can have the sword in the morning after I have talked to her. And if you try and trick me again I’ll run you through. Understood?”

The prince nodded as much as he was able. “Understood.”

Sherlock released him. “Try anything and you’re dead.” The prince gulped and then ran back to the castle. Sherlock just hoped the threat was enough to get him what he wanted. That evening a servant came for him. He was escorted to the same room, and there was Molly, sitting on the bed, wide awake. “He did what he was told,” he murmured.

“Sherlock!” Molly exclaimed, a wide smile on her face. She got off the bed and rushed over to embrace him. He held her close, savoring the feel of her. She pulled away and kissed him, a kiss he readily returned. “You came for me,” she said when she pulled away.

“I told you I would,” he said, resting his forehead against hers.

“The servants heard you in here last night and told me you were here, and I knew I wasn’t going to eat or drink anything he gave me. He’d drugged me the last two nights.” She pulled away and looked at him. “You’re in danger, though. As soon as he gets the sword he’s going to kill you, according to the servants, and then force me to marry him right afterwards. We need to stop him.”

“I can take you now and we can leave this place,” he replied, reaching for her hand.

She shook her head. “I would still be under his stepmother’s spell. We need to trick them. It’s the only way I’ll be free of the curse.”

“What would work?” he asked.

“I think I know.” She went to a chest at the foot of her bed. She opened it up and pulled out the white dress she had been wearing when he glimpsed her in the castle. “The tallow from your candle is still here. I’ll tell him I want to wear this dress when I am wed, and only one worthy of me can wash it out. Then when he fails you can try.”

“What if I fail?” Sherlock asked.

“You shouldn’t. You came to the end of the world to rescue me,” she said with a smile. “I think that would make you worthy.”

“But what if it doesn’t work?”

“Then I’ll take the sword and cut off their heads,” she said.

“The direct approach,” he said with a slight smile. “I like that.”

“I thought you might.” She moved closer to him. “You know, we do have all night.”

“We do, don’t we?” he said, pulling her close. “What do you propose we do?”

“Stop talking,” she said before kissing him again. He maneuvered them to the bed and then the rest of the night passed in a more than enjoyable way. When they were finished he pulled her close against him and they slept. This time they awoke before dawn, not waiting for the prince to come get him.

As the first rays of the morning broke in the room the prince opened the door. “Where is my sword?” he asked Sherlock.

“I want a test first, before he gives you the sword,” Molly said. She went and picked up the dress, then handed it to him. “Follow me.”

The prince gave her a look as she moved out the door. He looked back at Sherlock, who had pulled the sword out of its sheath and pointed it at him. “Go on. Go.” The prince swallowed thickly and headed out after the princess, and Sherlock followed him.

They made their way to the main room, where a pack of trolls were gathered. In the center of them was a woman with two big front teeth, bigger than any Sherlock had ever seen. “What’s the meaning of this?” she asked.

“I will only marry a man who is worthy of me,” Molly said, holding her chin up high. “I want to wear that dress when I get married, but there’s tallow on it. I will only marry the man who can clean the dress. If your son can do it, Sherlock will give him the sword and I will marry your son. If Sherlock can do it then I marry him.”

The wicked stepmother looked at her son, then Sherlock, and a slow grin spread on her face. “Very well. Get a washbasin,” the stepmother said to a servant, who nodded and scurried off.

Sherlock moved over to Molly. “I hope your plan works,” he murmured.

“If not, there’s plan B,” she replied. She reached over for the sword as the servant came back, carrying a washbasin with the help of another servant. Then Molly looked at the prince. “Wash it.”

The prince took the dress, then began to wash it. Instead of getting cleaner, the dress got dirtier and dirtier. As he noticed this he began to scrub more fervently. “It’s not working!”

“My turn,” Sherlock said, moving to the washbasin. The prince glared but Sherlock didn’t flinch, and soon he backed away, throwing the wet and dirtied dress at Sherlock’s face. Sherlock took the dress and knelt down, making sure only Molly was at his back, and began to wash the dress. Instantly the dress became snow white again, and the tallow was gone. Sherlock assumed it was magic that allowed him to do that. “I believe I win,” he said, holding the dress up.

“That’s impossible!” the stepmother screeched.

“Rules are rules,” Molly said, pulling the sword out and brandishing it. “He won, so he gets my hand in marriage.”

“No. No! NO!” the wicked stepmother screamed. She began to shake violently, and soon she exploded. Shortly after the prince exploded as did the rest of the trolls. When it was over there was no speck of any of them.

Molly sheathed the sword. “I’d say I’m free now, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I’d say you were too,” he said with a slow grin.

“Then I say we leave now. Free the servants and take the riches and go back home.” She handed him the sword, and once he had it on his waist she took his hand. “What do you say?”

He reached over for her and pulled her close. “I say that’s a very good idea,” he murmured before kissing her. All in all this had gone far better than he had hoped it would. They got their happy ending, and right now that was all that mattered.


End file.
